


Among the Others

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 00:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sansa meets with long-lost husband Tyrion before the war against the Dead.





	Among the Others

Tyrion waited anxiously as he stood on the snowy ground outside the Broken Tower. He had received a raven from the Warden of the North, his former wife Sansa Stark. He letter had asked that he meet her by the Broken Tower at nightfall. Apart from the evening meals he had attended, where she had exchanged stiff courtesies with the Northern Lords and her guests, Tyrion had not conversed with Sansa for many years. The letter had requested that he come meet with her alone. The letter not said what she wanted to speak with him about. 

Tyrion’s thick cape and gloves did little to dissipate the bracing wind from the North. The smoky air made it hard to see far into the distance. He heard the crush of snow under her boots before he saw the faint glow of her lantern approaching. 

The lantern she carried caught the shape of the snowdrifts before her. The light showed the shape of the hood around her face and her fiery hair peeking out from under the hood. There were circles under her eyes and her face carried the steely expression she had worn during dinner. When she saw Tyrion, her mouth stretched into a wan smile.

She set the lantern between them and sat on one of the many stones surrounding the Broken Tower. A bolt of lighting had stuck the Tower several generations ago, leaving behind the crumbled rock that scattered on the ground all around them.  

“Thank you for coming, Lord Tyrion,” said Sansa.

“Of course, Lady Sansa. You said you wanted to discuss something with me?” He held the crumbled letter in his hand.

Throughout his marriage with Sansa Stark, Tyrion Lannister had watched how Sansa composed herself when she sensed a danger. He saw her making these small adjustments, straightening her back, arching her chin and positioning herself as regally as a statue.

“Yes. I wanted to speak with you because, after our history together, I thought that you, of anyone, might understand my request. You know how a wight is created, do you not?”

“I am familiar with the myths and your brother has explained the process quite thoroughly to us.”  
  
“And you know the one way to prevent a body from becoming a wight is to burn it?”

Tyrion peered at her quizzically and nodded. 

Sansa crossed her gloved hands over each other.  

“Tyrion, can I make one request of you? If I were to burn my own body, would you bury the ashes under Winterfell?”

“Lady Sansa. You...don’t mean that." 

“I don’t want to die, Lord Tyrion!” she snapped. “But considering how unlikely it is that we will win this war, I would rather have my body return to the earth of my own home than be dragged up to become a walking corpse in the Night King’s army.”  

Tyrion felt as if the ground was falling beneath him. He swallowed hard as he tried to think of something to say. He had been prepared for Sansa to ask for an annulment of their marriage, but not for such a severe request.

“And do you really think it is so hopeless then? Do see no possibility that we could prevail, even with Queen Daenerys’ dragons and with both her and your brother’s armies?” And with mycounsel, he did not add, imagining how foolish that would sound to her.

Her gaze descended, regarding him cautiously. “I wish I could believe you- believe honestly that Spring will return and we will sit together in a little bower eating lemon cakes and feeling the sun on our faces. But every time I close my eyes, I see the same thing- myself, turning into one of those hideous Others, cold as ice and always hungry, hating everything warm, unable to die but not able to truly live again either…” 

She crouched closer towards him. “You told me once that you decided early on in your life that you would rather live as a grotesque than to miss out on all there is to live for. But I think this is different. As a broken thing, I have tried to live. But as an evil thing, as a soulless thing…”  

Tyrion shook his head. “You could never be an evil thing, Sansa. You’re not like me. I’ve always been a bitter, old Other, killing everything I touch…”

“Don’t say that! You were kind to me.” 

Tyrion’s heart pounded in his chest as she looked at him. Her blue eyes were wide and pink color flushed her cheeks. Her voice edged towards panic.

“But Lord Tyrion, in my nightmares, when I serve the White Walkers, you are the one I help them to take. Not Jon or even Arya. _You._ " 

His eyes narrowed and a half-smiled twitched on his face. “Lady Sansa, I would be happy for you to take me!”

Sansa frowned at him.

“No, I’m being serious,” Tyrion said conspiratorially, a wild light radiating from his black eye. “Think on it- it could even be an improvement over our current circumstances, in a way. We could be Lord and Lady of the Night without a care in the world. I imagine being a wight would not be much different from being intoxicated, except that we would _really_ be invulnerable to harm instead of merely believing ourselves to be so until we woke up bruised and embarrassed the next morning. We could growl and hiss at everyone instead of trying to be witty or polite. And then we could scare the ever-loving shit out of my sweet sister when we stormed King’s Landing.”

His voice turned gentle. “And I know you would be beautiful no matter what, my Lady, even if your hair fell out and your skin turned gray and your gowns turned to rags. As for me, becoming a wight would probably make an improvement on my looks. My nose would be no less holey than it already is and at least my eyes would match for once. And I could introduce you to Viserion. He was always my favorite of the dragons.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” she said numbly.  

“See, Sansa, you have so much to look forward to!”

Sansa’s resolve chipped as she heard Tyrion’s voice break. She had thought this would be easier. She had forgotten her husband’s sentimental side, buried under the outright pragmatism. She fought off the tears burning behind her eyes. 

“But if somehow the Queen and the King saved Westeros,” continued Tyrion, “And you alone were to perish, what would I care about the Dawn? My life has been one great Long Night far before any wights or White Walkers came along. But, because of you, I know what sunshine looks like and I do not always feel like a monster. I do not ask anything from you, except for this. Do not give up, Lady Sansa. The world will need you to rebuild it in the Spring.”  

For a moment his words seemed to pass through her, as if she hadn’t even heard them. Then, she looked up at the Broken Tower and shut her eyes. Long tracks of tears spilled down her face. She hung her head into her open hands.

“Why do you always have to be so kind?” 

“I don’t know,” said Tyrion. “It’s selfish, really.”

“We are really very fucked,” she said.

“That we are, Lady Sansa.” he said,  “That we are.”


End file.
